He searched the closet and drawer for his stuff. He found some of his clothes and headed into the small bathroom. He was just coming back out as Angela returned to the room.
“What do you think?” he asked.
He was still in his boxer briefs, but now he wore his motorcycle boots, a leather jacket, and a belt. No shirt, no jeans. Angela started to laugh.
“They had to cut off the shirt and pants,” said the nurse as he walked into the room behind Angela. “I’m sure they would have cut off the jacket too, if I hadn’t stopped them. Great jacket by the way. Here.” He handed a pair of green scrub pants to Oz. “I had an extra pair of pants in the car.”
“Thanks. You must be Tracy.”
“And you must be Oscar.”
“Just Oz.”
“Okay, ‘Just Oz,’ how are you feeling this morning?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say my ribs were a little stiff. And my shoulder hurts like shit.”
“Your ribs are bruised up pretty good. Your shoulder was dislocated, but the doctor managed to pop it back in. No broken bones. You’ll probably want to go see your doctor in a few days. By the way, nice collection of scars. Does your job involve acting as a human knife block?”
“That’s a new one.” He would remember that one to tell his brothers.
“Seriously, do you get that many scars winning or losing?”
“Winning mostly. You should see the other guys. I’m sorta what you would call a bounty hunter.” The answer wasn’t a complete lie. He and many of the other demon hunters acted as bounty hunters, not only for the money but to help explain injuries, and to account for their unusual and well-stocked collection of weapons.
“‘Sort of’, eh? It would appear that it’s a rather dangerous line of work. You must meet some really mean dudes.”
“The chicks are just as bad. I started shaving my head after a young lady of—shall we say—low moral standards got a good chunk of my scalp along with a handful of hair she pulled out.” Oz turned his head and showed them both a ragged scar above his ear. That situation had earned him a good deal of teasing from his brothers.
Angela didn’t see the humor in guys getting beaten and bloodied. She never understood the appeal of Fight Club; even Brad Pitt could not hold her attention for long in that movie.
The two men continued to banter back and forth. She studied Oz’s broad shoulders and tapered waist, and the promise that the tight boxer briefs hinted lay beneath. What deep and secret desires could this big scarred man awaken in her? A sudden heat spread through her body. Although the offers came regularly, she hadn’t had sex in almost a year. For some reason, the guys she dated thought, because she wore a skimpy costume, her morals were also small and sparse. Usually that was not the case. This man, however, was making her think otherwise. Once again, she forced her eyes back up to his face.
“I’m assuming there is no medical reason I need to stay?” Oz asked.
“No, but sorry, I’m not allowed to let you leave. Police should be here shortly. They want to talk to you about the accident,” Tracy said.
“Of course they do.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Oz’s voice. “Is there any place we can get some breakfast first?”
“We’ve got cereal and juice and milk. I’ll go bring you guys a tray.”
“Thanks,” said Oz.
“You should be prepared for the cops to ask you about the scars, too. The doctor had to make a note in your file about them, and Pettiworth was in the room.”
“Of course. Thanks for the warning.”
“No problem,” replied Tracy. “I’ll go find you some cereal.”
“Thanks, Tracy,” added Angela as the nurse left the room.
“No rest for the wicked,” Oz said.
“I think the expression is ‘no rest for the weary,’” she corrected.
“That’s because you don’t know me very well.”
Oz kicked off his boots and stepped into the pants that Tracy had left with him. They hung short, a couple of inches above his ankles. “I thought you said Tracy was big!” remarked Oz, and Angela laughed.
****
Almost an hour had passed, and Angela sat in the waiting room reading a magazine. The fashion rag, full of lots of ads and very few articles, was only two months old—much fresher than she would have given the medical center credit for. She reached for the cup of cold coffee and then changed her mind.
“Hey,” Oz said as he came around the corner with the sheriff. The officer continued on his way to the nurses’ desk.
The big biker was a comical sight—too-short medical pants, motorcycle boots, bandaged ribs, and a leather jacket.
She bit her lip to hide her laughter.
“Thanks for the sympathy,” he said as he looked down at himself. “It’s either these or back to my briefs. I don’t think the sheriff would like me to walk around in those. How about you?”
Angela felt her cheeks grow warm. She dropped the magazine back on the table and stood up. “You look fine. No one else will laugh. The bandages will make people feel sorry for you, even if the pants don’t.” She bit back another laugh.
“So, what are you still doing here?”
She had asked herself that same question half a dozen times in the last hour. She knew nothing of the giant man whose body suggested a rough and dangerous life, but she had always found it unfair that people misjudged her brother Bobby. She was not about to do the same. Yes, Oz might look dangerous, and his job might be dangerous, but that didn’t mean the man himself was a threat. And something about him intrigued her.
“I didn’t know if you needed a lift back to your motorcycle, or home, or whatever.”
“That’s…Thanks. The sheriff said my bike is in worse shape than me, and that it was towed to a local mechanic. Said I won’t be able to drive it ’til it’s fixed. Maybe you could take me over there?”
“Sure. Oh, and here are your keys,” she said digging into her pocket and handing the set of keys and chain to Oz. “Do you have someone—a wife or friend—who can pick you up, or will you need a lift to your home?”
“No wife. And I’m not sure how many friends are available right now. But you don’t even know where I live.”
“Well, I assumed it wouldn’t be too far. Is it?”
Oz gave a deep chuckle. “It’s about twenty minutes or so from here, and it’s toward Nevada where I believe you said you were headed. That okay?”
“Sure. No problem.” Angela picked up her purse. “So, do you know where we can find that mechanic?”
****
Oz went inside to talk to the mechanic while Angela sat in the car and waited.
Why hadn’t she left last night? There must be a hotel somewhere nearby. Her brother always teased her about taking in strays, cats and dogs as a kid, men as she got older. There was something different about Oz though, something about this man that called to her.
She chewed her bottom lip as she studied Oz. Even in his too-short hospital pants and leather jacket, he was a sexy and attractive man. A flashback of him in his boxers and the sudden heat returned to her core. She didn’t view his powerful build as a sign of danger; no, it suggested instead a haven of strength. He was a lot like her brother, and yet Bobby certainly never made her feel as sexy or as wanting as this giant man did. How would it feel to be held in the safety and strength of his arms?
She shook her head. What would be the point? A full day’s drive separated their lives, and except for the fact he was a bounty hunter and rode a motorcycle, what else did she know of this imposing man?
Despite the unseen fog of conflict that swirled around her, Angela took a peek in the rearview mirror, grabbed her eyeliner, and quickly touched up her makeup. She was just putting the stuff back in her purse when Oz leaned in the car window.
“Would you mind a bit of a detour?” he asked, arms resting on the open window. “My bag must have gotten thrown loose from the bike. Maybe we could go take a quic
k look for it.”
“You don’t think maybe the sheriff has it?”
“No. I think he would have said something if he did.” I’m damn sure he would have said something if he had found it and looked inside. Oz climbed in next to Angela. Tiny, shitty Japanese car.
They drove about ten minutes before Angela pulled over to the side of the road. Although police cars and the tow truck had added to the crumpled grass, he could still see where the motorcycle had gone off the road and where it had come to rest in the long grass.
He walked behind, appreciating the way Angela’s ass moved as she maneuvered down the hill. When they reached the indentation of where the bike landed, he crouched down and surveyed around in all directions, trying to recall exactly what had occurred the previous night. He scratched his leg where the grass tickled the skin between pant and boot. The trees!
“Would you mind looking over there?” He pointed in the opposite direction. “I’ll search that way.” He nodded toward the trees, certain that was where he would find the bag.
Angela did as asked and headed toward the long grass while Oz went the other way. Last night, a car had stopped at the top of the hill. Not knowing if it was friend or foe and unable to fight in his condition, the cold sweat of discovery had prompted him to throw the bag toward the trees and away from the road.
Keeping an eye on Angela, he located the leather satchel. He opened the bag, checked the contents, and then did up the leather ties. The ancient blades were still safe. “Found it,” he called.
****
Oz sat in the passenger seat, and inhaled the floral smell of Angela’s perfume. She even smelled sexy. What did she taste like? Stop it! She shouldn’t even be here. He should have called Jared—or anyone else—to come pick him up.
He tried to get comfortable in the too-small seat as he provided directions.
“So you’re a bounty hunter?” she asked.
No, actually I’m a demon hunter. “Yep. It pays the bills.”
“How did you get into that?”
“I always wanted to be in law enforcement, but things don’t always work out as we plan—” Like when a bunch of demons shoot up your town, your wife, and yourself. “—so I ended up becoming a bounty hunter.”
“Well, you are still getting some of the more unsavory elements off the street.”
“Yeah, although it’s a little less glamorous. Turn left,” he said pointing ahead.
“You don’t strike me as someone who is in it for the glamour. My brother wanted to be a cop. He was in a car fire, though, his third year of high school. It ruined his chances at a football scholarship and his future as a policeman. But he did well. Went on to be a park ranger and loved it. He still got a uniform, and a chance to serve and protect.”
“You and your brother close?”
“We were. I’m actually on my way back from burying him.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. How did he die?” If it even sounds like demon work, I promise you I’ll advance the fiend to the top of my to-do list.
“Wrong place, wrong time. He survived fire, and grizzlies, and all sorts of crap. He was out running one day and got hit by a car. Drunk driver—hit and run—in the middle of the afternoon. The guy just left him there. There is some justice in the world, I guess, because the driver ended up crashing his car into a tree about ten miles further. He was dead when they found him. The driver, that is. They say it was about two hours before someone noticed Bobby and stopped.”
“Fuck. I really am sorry, Angel.” Another time, another place and he could see himself spending time to comfort this beautiful lady.
“Thanks. Anyway, as I said, I was on my way back home when I saw the accident, and well, you know the rest.”
“So, where is home?” he asked.
“Vegas. Ever been?”
“No. I’d like to visit some day though. Did you and your brother grow up there?”
“We moved around quite a bit. I was actually heading to California to be a dancer, but I never made it past the bright lights of Vegas.”
“What kind of dancing do you do?”
“What kind of dancing do most girls do when they end up in Vegas?”
“You’re a stripper?” Oz sounded surprised. “Hot. Very hot.”
Yes, it certainly was. Why did he have this effect on her? She opened her window a little more. “I was, for all of about three days. I mean, I didn’t go to Vegas planning to be a stripper, but it was easy work and paid well. At least I thought so until I found out the extra things my boss wanted me to do. So I quit. I worked here and there for a year or so, and then I was auditioning for one of the casino shows when an opportunity came up. The casino wanted attractive girls who were smart enough to deal blackjack while wearing a bra and chaps, and who could still concentrate while being hit on a hundred times a night. Pays good; tips are great.”
“Hot and smart. Nice combination. Pull in up there.”
Angela turned at the nameless gray mailbox and began the short trip down the dirt drive. The tiny farmhouse sat lonely, surrounded by an empty expanse of grass and then forest. She pulled to a stop in front of the small two-story structure.
“Look, Angel, I would love to invite you in right now for lunch, but after that stripper story and watching you walk around in those jeans and boots all morning, I have to be honest—food is the last thing on my mind.”
Angela’s gaze fell to Oz’s lap. His obvious erection fought against the green hospital pants. She chewed her lip as she glanced back up to meet unabashed lust in his eyes. Forget being held in his arms, she ached to feel his powerful hands all over her body. Desire warmed between her legs.
She turned off the engine and opened her door. “Luckily, I think lunch is the most overrated meal of the day.”
She followed him the short distance from the car to the house, and then waited while he opened the door. What had she gotten herself into? Alone at a stranger’s house out in the middle of nowhere. No, he wasn’t like that. She was certain.
Oz preceded her into a small kitchen, and she jumped as the screen door slammed closed behind her. Her hands shook as Oz took her coat and purse from her. He dropped them along with his own coat into a nearby chair.
He shucked off his boots and kicked them into the corner, then scooped her up in his arms before she had a chance to look at the house.
“Oz, be careful,” she began, but her warning went unheeded. Oblivious to the injured shoulder or the tape around his ribs, he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.
Dropping her on the bed, he pulled the tie on the medical pants, and stepped out of the scrubs and his briefs in one swift motion. His cock stood huge, perfectly proportioned to the titanic man. Maybe she should be concerned. She drank in the sight of him as she unzipped her boots and shimmied out of her jeans.
She just finished taking off her panties, when he was over her, crushing his mouth down on hers, trapping her breasts with the weight of his chest. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, and she moaned a welcoming response as her hungry hands took inventory of the muscles on his back.
Oz shifted, moving his mouth from Angela’s bruised lips to her swollen breasts. She arched her back, pressing herself into his mouth, and he sucked at the hardened nipples.
She shivered as Oz’s fingers lightly brushed her bare mons on their way to her hot, moist sex, and she shuddered when his two fingers smoothly slipped inside. Her muscles tightened around his fingers, and she moaned again as she struggled against the building pleasure.
He left her on the bed, breathless, while he plucked a condom from a nearby drawer and sheathed his swollen manhood. Using his legs, Oz parted her thighs, and penetrated her in one quick thrust. She gasped and cried out at the exquisite pain, amazed that she surrendered to his size with such ease.
He put his hands under her bottom, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as he lifted her from the bed. Still inside of her, Oz sandwiched Angela against the wall. The rou
gh texture scratched intimately at her back as she rode him faster and faster.
Oz’s tongue explored deep in her mouth. God, she couldn’t hold out much longer. The strength in his arms continued to lift her up and down, his shaft buried deep within her, and her fingers dug into the muscles of his back. Sparks ignited in her brain as the fire exploded in her core. She leaned her head back against the wall as the waves washed through her, and she could feel her lover jerk and shudder with his own spasms of release.
On shaky legs, he carried her back to the bed.
“Angel, you feel like heaven when you come,” he said and then collapsed them both onto the crumpled bedspread.
****
“You can’t stay.”
“I know. Is she still sleeping?”
“Who?” Oz feigned innocence.
Jared didn’t answer; instead, he raised an all-knowing eyebrow.
“Yes. She offered me a ride home, and—”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“How do you know?”
Another raised eyebrow. “We keep an eye on our own—you know that. I felt your danger and stopped by the hospital. She was asleep in the chair. Tell me what happened.”
Oz recounted what he could remember from the accident.
“Was it the same demon that scored you?”
“I can’t be sure. I didn’t see either of them. It was getting dark and the windows were tinted. I saw red eyes though in the passenger seat. I think it’s safe to assume at least one of the occupants was him.”
“Nothing is ‘safe’ until he is dead. He has your blood and he will not give up until one of you is dead. Try to stay inside for a bit. You’re protected as long as you’re here. The spells are on, yes?”
“Yes,” Oz confirmed. Somewhere far off in the trees, birds chirped; even they could not come close to the house unless he wanted them near.
Sometimes, like now, Jared’s parental concern struck Oz as funny since they were both about the same age in physical years—mid thirties. Jared, however, had died many years before and was therefore much older. Add to that the fact the great hunter had brought Oz back from the dead. Jared was his mentor and therefore in many ways like a father.
Silver Blade Page 2
